Visiting Syria and Lebanon it was clear that people today, in that area of the world, still see reality through a lens of tribe. But my experience is that tribalism is alive and well and fairly pervasive beyond the Middle East. In the US of A it seems that the drive to find one’s tribe is gaining strength. This desire to bond with a somewhat exclusive, homogeneous group tends to deepen when the context in which we live feels more and more uncertain and unpredictable. We seek the false sense of security of a self-contained pod where we imagine that we can control our reality. Here, among others with whom we sense some affinity, we look to find our identity, a sense of belonging, the psycho-social embrace of WE.

We share the same beliefs and values and way of seeing, thinking and speaking of reality. We are right. We are good. We are the true… The problem is THEY. They are wrong. They are inherently evil. They are the false… We are saved. They are not. Tragically the glue of these contemporary tribes is fear. The other is a threat to our way of life. They must be put in their place, or better yet, eliminated. This is our just and justified crusade.

Violence becomes acceptable. Look at gangs. The Mafia. These are extreme examples of tribes. But we have seen that there are other tribes. I am Democrat. I am Republican. I am conservative. I am progressive. Instead of being associates of some group, this is who we are. Instead of leaning in a direction, we are totally in (totalitarians!). Real change is discouraged. Conformity, uniformity, discrimination are marks of these tribes. There is no room for the other, the different.

What happens to simple civility, respect, openness, desire to grow beyond? These are stifled. Civilization suffers. We all suffer, when the fact is, there is no US and THEM. These are perniciously false and artificial labels. We are all human beings with the same dreams, joys, fears, deepest desires, and we are all in this adventure of becoming more fully human together. There is only US. And we’d better start living this truth together soon.

Of course, this tendency to seek security through a dualism isn’t new. But it is totally antithetical to the teachings of Jesus. There is only one God, who created us all. All humans are brothers and sisters. And we share the same basic reality with all creation. We share the same mission to build up God’s Kingdom, guided by God’s Spirit. We are not above. We are a part of a whole. No one ever needs to be, or to feel, alone.

One of the clearest and most radical aspects of Jesus’ life and way is inclusivity. He chose to dine with all sorts of folks. He didn’t choose one group over another. Poor, rich, Pharisee, sinner… Yet shortly after his death and Resurrection, St. Paul is writing to the Christian community in Corinth, scolding and warning them about their destructive tendency to divide into cliques or factions. Some claimed to be adherents of Paul, some of Apollos (another Christian leader), some of Peter, and some (rightly) claimed allegiance to Christ. There was also preferential treatment of rich members over poorer ones. How quickly we drift into the comfortable security blanket of US versus THEM.

What might be an antidote to this insidious human trait? Love! Love as we are loved. Instead of writing anyone off, work to understand them and where they are coming from. Choose curiosity over condemnation. Isn’t that different and interesting? Why is it? Risk dialogue. Get to know the other, not to discover or prove how right we are, and how wrong they are. Who are they? What’s their story? What has been their life’s journey so far? Talk things out. It doesn’t mean that you need to like or to agree with everything, but listen – without the judgmental tape playing as background music in your head. Discover the common humanity of every one. 

We are infinitely more alike than different at core. Welcome the other as sister, as brother. We all belong to the same race, the same family. We are already absolutely precious and wonderful – beloved. We don’t need to put anyone down to try to boost our own status. Let us strive together to seek the good of all, the common good. The alternative is tearing one another apart – mutually assured destruction (M.A.D.) Let us discover together what is better for all and dedicate ourselves to work to make this our shared reality. It will cost all of us something, but it will bring us closer to the Kingdom Jesus introduced.

When we are very young, mommies and daddies (and to some extent all adults) seem to have amazing powers. They are big and strong and know everything. They can do fantastic things that are clearly beyond our ability to understand or imagine. They are to be respected, maybe even feared. Obedience to them certainly is the better option for tiny creatures. 

One of the most incredible abilities that parents, especially mommies, have is that mysterious healing kiss. One well-placed kiss and, right away or in just a moment, the hurt fades away and all is better. Sadly, we grow older and the owies that we run into along the way are much, much bigger. Mommy’s kiss just doesn’t have the same healing force anymore.

It’s possible that sometimes, without even realizing it, we might want to believe in a god who can kiss it and make it all better. We hurt so badly, those we care for hurt so badly, our whole broken, bleeding world hurts so badly that we long for a god to magically intervene and set everything right. That god never shows up, like some wizard or superhero, to destroy the evil, and the evildoers, through prodigious deeds of power and might. Spoiler alert!  God will not make it all better.

The God we are given is more like the parent who sits with their child day and night as that child battles some horribly painful, destructive disease. God is with us (Emmanuel), day and night, loving us, comforting us from our many fears. This God will hold our hand and walk with us through this life into fullness of Life.

Dread or optimism? It’s possible to find either of these moods emerging as we approach New Year’s Day. Will 2023 be better or worse than 2022? And for whom? Perhaps these aren’t the best questions with which to enter a new year.

What would go into making 2023 truly new for us? This would call for a dynamic and very intentional mindset on our part. It might begin with asking ourselves, “What onerous baggage do I carry forward from year to year?” “Why can’t I put it down and leave it behind?” “How can I let it go, once and for all?”

It would certainly help to examine and name what negative attitudes, fear-rooted behaviors, biases (for and against), self-centered inclinations and/or destructive habits that burden me and wear me down. Having done a thorough review of our life, then it’s a matter of coming to clarity and certainty that these accretions that have covered me over the years like slimy moss, are preventing me from living as freely, fully alive, as loving as I really would prefer to live.

The steps are: become aware of what feels bad about how we are living, recognize our deeper desire to become a better version of our self, ask for God’s help (we cannot do this solo!) to let go of any and all that is pulling us down or causing us to go around in circles year after year like a hamster on a wheel, and choose the newness of life that is waiting for us. We’ve secretly tried hundreds of times to do this on our terms. Let’s try a new way.

Let’s face it. Daily life is not often conducive to reflection, or to openness to Mystery. We are busy. Too frequently just trying to get by from day-to-day. The season of Advent was designed to be a preparation to be able to celebrate Christmas more fully, more ready to welcome and to recognize Jesus in the many ways he comes among us. 

The Scripture readings assigned to the daily liturgies are intended to be an aid to our preparation. In those from the Prophets, there is a clear message for us to get ready for something previously unheard of from God. They vibrate with promise. The gospel texts, among other themes, shine a spotlight on the character of John the Baptizer.

When Jesus questions the crowds about John, he is challenging their expectations of John, and for John. This is an Advent challenge for all of us. How can we live expectantly, without falling back on expectations? We’d feel so much more secure, if only we had a preview of what is to come.

At the birth of John, in the first chapter of the Gospel of Luke, the neighbors in the hill country ask the question: “What will this child (surrounded by so much wonder and mystery) become?” Yes, this is a question that precedes every newborn who is eagerly expected. John grows into the role of prophet, and warns everyone who dares come near him at the Jordan River to get their act together. As usual, some get it, others don’t.

Jesus asks the question of those who follow him, “What did you go out into the Judean wilderness to see?” In other words, “What did you expect John to be?” Do you notice how many “sinners” – like tax collectors and prostitutes – heeded John’s message to get their lives together. They went to be baptized, because they took John’s preaching to heart. They wanted to be prepared for the new work that God is about to do in the world. By implication, Jesus is also pointing out those who refused to pay attention to John’s warning. These were unwilling and unable to live expectantly. They were quite certain that God would act as they expected – too bad for you sinners!

There is the pregnant couple expectantly awaiting a child of promise. They could never imagine what Jesus would turn out to be and to do, but they trusted God’s Word. Certainly they didn’t imagine a manger in a cave behind an inn, shepherds, Magi, angels, death threats from Herod, a nighttime escape to Egypt – of all places… It was impossible for them to draw up mental pictures of this wonderful child.

We are challenged by Advent to put aside our expectations and to live expectantly. Not trying to guess what God might do with, in and through us. Advent is a season of Hope. We are called to trust that what God will do, will be blessed.  And that whatever happens, God is and always will be Emmanuel, God-With-Us, right here in the middle of the craziness, the unknown, the overwhelming mess that is our life. Even though we may never see and understand how or why.

We are born with an expiration date stamped on our hearts. Sadly, some people die before their time because of accident, or violence, or long-term trauma that wears a body and spirit down. But we all know that we will die, from the moment we find out pet turtle or goldfish no longer moving about as they did only yesterday. We are born in time. We live in time. We will die in time. It’s just, I don’t know, more pleasant, or more convenient, to imagine oneself as perpetually five years old, or 10 or maybe 27, or even 39. Until death is staring one in the face. An accident, a life-threatening illness, being caught in a crossfire we didn’t anticipate… Anything like this could wake us up. Or maybe not.

The month of November, with All Saints and All Souls Days, along with Memorial Day, Veteran’s Day or the anniversary of the passing of one dear to us, can all serve as reminders of our inherent mortality – if we let them. Death is one of the very few certainties for living creatures, a fact, not to be feared. Death has the power to give us the gift of perspective. We are not here forever, moving from day to day. 

Living lightly the awareness of death can free us to choose to live more fully, more boldly, more openly. We don’t need to be constantly looking over our shoulder, trying to dodge what might be. We can let go of any regrets for what wasn’t, won’t or can’t be. What God wants for us is to live life wholeheartedly, now, loving with all we’ve got, giving ourselves and being good to ourselves, making our world a little bit better, a more human place for all. 

Jesus was extra concerned with rich people. The gospels make it clear that Jesus often tried to warn those who had wealth about the great risk in having too much. When we have more than enough, it is very easy to make what we have the center, the god, of our life. We can tend to put our trust in the illusion of security that wealth whispers seductively to our heart. Jesus invites us to have what we need and to be grateful and generous – generous like the One who provides good things to us.

Luke, in his gospel, definitely captures Jesus’ heartache for the wealthy. In the sixteenth chapter (Luke 16: 9-15), there is a followup to his parable of the “Dishonest Steward.” (Remember the guy who was cheating his master and gets caught?). Jesus says, “Use wealth (most probably gained at the expense of others),  to cultivate friendships, so that when wealth betrays you and fails you, you will have people to welcome you when you ultimately approach God’s tent.

Jesus goes on to point out that if we are worthy of trust when engaged in the nitty-gritty, we will be trustworthy when we are dealing with big stuff. And if we cheat to get our own advantage in the little things, we will be totally unreliable when it comes to really important matters. To Jesus, how we use money is important. It is a measure of our integrity. And, for him, all we have is, at root, a gift from God. It’s given to us to use to build up God’s Kingdom. Are we wealthy due to our own crafty manipulations and dishonesty, or because we are using God’s gifts as God desires?

Jesus is pointing out that we are the stewards of God’s abundant blessings. Do we use our intelligence, status,  abilities to advance peace, unity, goodness, truth, love in the world? Or not? Do we want to look good, like we’ve got the world in our back pocket, or be good? What, or Whom, do we serve? God or illusory wealth?

We know that Jesus liked to use parables as part of his teaching toolkit. A parable is an open-ended story designed to engage its hearers and move their minds and hearts beyond where they have been until now. They can have an unexpected twist and frequently end with a question. Scripture scholars have made it clear that the gospels were not dictated by Jesus to the evangelists. They picked and chose what they felt was important for their listeners and, later, their readers. And they added their own spin. Much of the commentary on the parables that Jesus told was added later as the gospels were edited to address issues in the community for whom the gospel was put into its final, written form.

One of the most popular of these teaching tales was the parable of the sower and the seeds. It appears in all three synoptic gospels (Mark 4:3-9; Matthew 13:4-9; Luke 8:5-8). It is usually placed first among Jesus’ parables, so the evangelists who did the editing seemed to have thought it had a clearly vital message. Perhaps because they themselves experienced in their ministry what Jesus taught through this parable.

It goes like this: a farm worker went out to plant a crop of grain. The method used was what was later described as broadcasting. Take a handful of seeds and fling them out with a wide sweeping motion as you walk along. Afterward, a plowman would come along and loosen the soil to better receive and to germinate the seeds. Even if you were very careful and accurate with your broadcasting, inevitably some seed would land on ground that wasn’t suitable for growing grain.

Jesus continues. Some of the seed fell on a path that lined, or maybe even cut across, the field. Some seed fell on patches that had so much rock and stone that it wasn’t reasonable to even try to clear it all. Some seed fell among thorns – those tough, stubborn weeds whose own seeds blew in from everywhere. Some seed (hopefully most of it!) fell on good soil.

What happened to these seeds? The seed that fell on the well-traveled and beaten path was easy food for the birds or was trampled by the passersby. The seed that fell among the rocks and stones sprouted and sent up its shoots very quickly, because there was no depth to the soil there. The blazing sun burned up the tender plants almost as quickly as they appeared. The seed that fell among the thorns couldn’t compete with those defiant botanical bullies. They sprouted, but got overwhelmed by the competition. The seed that fell on the good soil grew abundantly according to the richness of the nutrients and the timeliness of the rains.

What’s clearly behind this farming tale is what Jesus experienced in his own ministry. Some people got his message and some people didn’t. Some people were too indoctrinated with a hardened mindset and couldn’t even take it in. Some were unable to receive the message because the religious authorities, or their relatives and friends, with persistent opposition, ridicule and critiquing, took away the possibility for them to give the message a fair hearing. Some were shallow. They liked the gentle, beautiful words about love, but couldn’t stand the challenging parts of Jesus’ message (e.g. the consequences of loving to the end, no matter what). Some people enthusiastically embraced the novelty of the message and all the energy around Jesus, but never really took it, or him, seriously. After a time, the fad wore thin and was replaced by other more interesting or entertaining distractions. Some people were able to hear Jesus out – the whole message – and bought into it (both the beautiful and the difficult aspects of it) with their lives. They became abundantly fruitful witnesses of the truth that Jesus was telling and living.

The later commentary identifies the seed as the Word of God. Who “gets it”? Who is able to hear and take to heart the message of God’s love, personally embodied in Jesus himself? Anyone who tries to live and proclaim this message will face the same responses. There is so much that hinders us from wholeheartedly receiving and living out the kind of egoless love that Jesus is! The great twentieth-century German theologian, Karl Rahner, once wrote that the biggest challenge to faith today is everyday life in the world – with all its struggles and suffering. Faith in God and in the Good News of Jesus embraces all that is, and all that can and will be – possibilities we can’t even imagine. Which type of seed are you?

Have you thought about plowing fields lately? Plowmen, holding a straight line to have the furrows as close to each other as possible, determined how abundant a crop one might raise. Those tight furrows could make the difference between a farmer having enough grain to sell to keep his family well-provided for or not. This was especially tricky if you were fortunate enough to have access to an ox or donkey, which tended to go their own way, pulling the plow, Plowing without computers, GPS, and all our modern machinery with its advanced technology was a skill and an art.

Jesus, who worked with wood and stone in his trade, perhaps had made several plows by hand. He knew which wood was better for this implement. He knew the importance of shape, the need to smooth the wood, removing bark, splinters and rough patches, and how to hone the wooden point so that it would more easily drive through soil and yet would not shatter when it came up against the myriad stones that populated the land.  He obviously was a keen observer of nature and of the workings of agriculture. Just look at how many of his parables speak of growing, of soils, of seeds – of working the land!

In the Gospel of Luke (Luke 9:61-62), at the very end of the ninth chapter, a potential disciple boldly declares to Jesus: “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me go say goodbye to my family back home.” Jesus responds with a strong image: “No one who sets a hand to the plow and keeps looking back is a good fit for God’s Kingdom.” Another translation is “looks to what was left behind.” How can you raise an abundant crop if you are constantly looking over your shoulder? It’s impossible to cut straight, deep, clean furrows if you’re not watching where you’re going.

Where are our eyes and energies fixed?  On what was, or on what might yet be? Jesus is saying that life moves forward. There is no time for nostalgia, for pining for the “good old days” – which is usually an idealization that filters out all the hardships, difficulties and problems that are part of every age.  There can be a sense of security in keeping our focus on what has been. (Though security is an illusion.) We’ve already faced and dealt with that stuff, and survived, if not thrived through it all. It’s familiar, not fearfully unknown. If memories hold us in the past, they possess us. Hope doesn’t reside in the past, only in the future. We remember what God has done before and trust that the Holy Spirit hasn’t run out of creativity or gracious surprises. Jesus urgently invites us to move forward with him in building the Kingdom. Don’t look back!

Jesus invites us to become like little children – spontaneous, filled with wonder, super-trusting, open, eager to learn and to grow. Jesus, though, is not encouraging childishness. Children love to play. It’s their way to explore the world, to learn the rules of how things work and how to be with others. 

When we “play games” with others: when we don’t deal with them openly, honestly, fairly, when we manipulate and use twisted emotions to get our own way, we are NOT being like little children. We are behaving like spoiled brats. This is not playful, but destructive, and self-destructive.

Sometimes we might find ourselves playing games with the divine. This is not very healthy for our relationship with God. One common game we could try is hide and seek. We pretend that God can’t find us, especially when we are doing something that we consider bad or sinful. (Remember the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden.) As if there is any place apart from God who is here, everywhere. Maybe we think that if we keep God out of our consciousness, God can’t see us. Like little children who cover their eyes and declare, “You can’t see me now!” As if we can keep God “in the dark.”

It can also be that we imagine God playing hide and seek with us. We can feel that God is an expert at this game – hidden and impossible to find. God certainly can be silent, which is disconcerting in our world of uninterrupted noise. But God is always there, even when we can’t sense God’s loving presence. When we believe this, God emerges from the shadows. This is not necessarily consoling, because it may seem to us that no one or nothing is “there.” God is playful, but God doesn’t play games

Here’s a piece of the Gospel that’s more potent than a triple espresso on a sleepy Sunday morning – especially as Luke presents it (Luke:14:25-27). Jesus challenges us: Anyone who comes to me without hating father, mother, brother, sister, spouse, children… (not talking about the occasional day when said person is acting like a “genuine pain in the neck” hate) you cannot be my disciple. Who would that leave as disciples? A bunch of holy haters? Who would want to follow someone who requires you to hate those you are closest to? This is crazy!

To begin to unravel this apparently insensitive, unloving and genuinely puzzling way for Jesus to sort out true from fake disciples, it helps to remember that Aramaic (the first language of Jesus), similar to its sister tongue Hebrew, is a primitive form of communication. Aramaic is predominantly oral. It doesn’t have all the sophisticated nuances of any modern language in this age of global communication. (And see how well we do communicating – even when we are using the same language!) The only way to make a comparison in ancient Aramaic is by lining up, side-by-side, opposing ideas – like love and hate.

In ancient Aramaic, in order to express preference you would have to say something like, “I love this, but I hate that.” There was no way to say, “I like blueberries better than I like zucchini.” Loyalty demanded that you give absolute preference to your tribal or clan chief. You would “love” your chief. You would pledge your life to your chief. You would “love” all the members of your nation, tribe, clan and family. This leaves all others to be “hated.”  This fierce allegiance made your group strong enough to survive. Is this much different than what dictators and militaries today require? 

So, what Jesus is saying in modern parlance is, “To be my disciple you need to put me first – ahead of all your other natural relationships – like family.” All those who do, have the tightest bond – even tighter than blood. He is not saying that we need to loathe, despise or have nothing to do with those we naturally love. “Hate,” as Jesus means it, is not hate – at least as we understand it.

The language Jesus used was radical in his day. Family, clan and tribe were the bedrock of social cohesion. He was calling people to a new, all-inclusive family that recognized only One as Abba of all peoples. The type of loyalty to which Jesus calls us is a major challenge. But it is not hateful of others. Jesus is asking us to put him before others in our life, and like him, to love God with all we are.